Realisation
by elmo98
Summary: One shot. Post Reichenbach. John listens to the radio and it causes him to think. Sorry I'm rubbish at summaries. Just read and find out. Please?


DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE SONG, SHERLOCK OR ANYTHING ELSE. I DO NOT EARN ANY MONEY FROM WRITING THIS.

John was listening to the radio in 221B when a song started playing.

I sit by the harbour

The sea calls to me

I hide in the water

But I need to breathe

You are an ocean wave my love

Crashing at the bow

I am a galley slave my love

If only I could find the way to sail you

Maybe I'll just stow away

I've been run a ground

So sad for a sailor

I felt safe and sound

But needed the danger

You are an ocean wave my love

Crashing at the bow

I am a galley slave my love

If only I could find the way to sail you

Maybe I'll just stow away

You are an ocean wave my love

Crashing at the bow

I am a galley slave my love

If only I could find the way to sail you

Maybe I'll just stow away

Stow away

Stow away

John listened to the song, and realised just how much it bared resemblance to him and Sherlock, to how he felt after Sherlock jumped. To how his psychosomatic limp had vanished after his first taste of danger with Sherlock. To how he felt he was looking at life through a glass window now, to how only he Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and Lestrade believed that Sherlock was all he said he wasn't. To how without his child like best friend he felt alone, numb, not daring to let emotion in. He just worked like a robot, woke up, got food, got showered and went to work, come home, eat and go to bed. He missed the dark haired consulting detective, when he came in from work he automatically checked his phone for texts of a case and scanned the house for bullet holes, there was never any of either anymore. Sherlock's room lay empty, a layer of dust settled on all his possesions. His violin where he left it, on top of the telly.

Sherlock lay quietly on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, he was thinking of John, wondering how he was holding up, wondering if the limp had come back. He had to wonder as Mycroft refused to provide him with updates. He wanted to see John again, to hear his voice, to play his own violin at three in the morning and see John come down the stairs wearing his 'I-just-woke-up-because-of-you-AGAIN' look, he wanted to hear the doctor laugh again. He wished he could reappear but he knew he couldn't, no with Moriarty's men still hanging around like a bad smell. Suddenly, Sherlock was interrupted from his musings as he heard footsteps, light and quick. He deduced that the person was male, approximately 5 ft 3 inches, 10 stone and in his late twenties, early thirties. He quickly rolled around and hid behind a box. At that moment a man, with dark hair and green eyes walked in, Sherlock recognised him as one of Moriarty's lackeys and it was the same person he'd been following for the last three weeks.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are Sherlock" The henchman called.

Sherlock just retreated further into the shadows and hid again, in his brilliant mind he'd figured that if he crept around the back he could break the man's neck before he'd even realise that Sherlock was behind him. He quickly rolled so that he was on the back right hand side of the man. He crept quietly forwards and placed one hand on the top of the man's head, the other under his chin. As he did this another lackey crept behind and grabbed Sherlock in a half nelson. Sherlock struggled and kicked, he managed to hit the raven haired man in front and knock him out. The new lackey just dropped Sherlock and went for a kick but Sherlock was too quick and had grabbed the blond man's leg and pulled him over. He then proceeded to snap both necks and stroll out into the night.

John sat in silence, his mind was running through memories of Sherlock, especially at the pool, he suudenly cringed as he heard Moriarty's words again. "I will burn the heart out of you". John realised that this meant he and Sherlock, not just the consulting detective, on that day, 6 months ago, when Sherlock jumped, he lost some of himself, his soul with his best friend's death. He remembered the funeral, when he asked for Sherlock not to be dead, he knew it was pathetic but he had to ask, he knew he wouldn't cope. So far he was proving himself right.

The door burst open and John jumped up in suprise, his handgun by his side, pointing at the door. Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan walked in, cassually as you'd like and proceeded to sit down. John was first to break the silence.

"What are you doing here?" John questioned the grey-haired officer.

"Drugs bust officially." Lestrade answered.

"But you know I don't do drugs, it was Sh..Sherlock who did that."

"I know but you haven't been answering your phone, I got worried. Your bearly coping as it is."

"Awww, we missing the freak are we?" Donovan inquired, her voice had a malicious edge.

"Shut up!" Lestrade growled.

"GET OUT!" John also growled, over Lestrade's voice.

"Fine, fine I'm going." Donovan said.

"Look John, it's been six months, you need to start moving on." Lestrade said comfortingly.

"Greg, I can't, I just can't. Jumping wouldn't be Sherlock style, if he was going to end it then he would've tried to go out with a bang. It just doesn't sit right with me." John admitted to the detective.

"Look, I don't like that he's gone either yo know, but I'm moving on, picking up my life again, just because he's gone doesn't mean you can stop living." Greg told the younger man sternly.

"Anderson, out. I need to talk to your boss without you in the room so move it." John stated rather rudely.

"I didn't want to be hear anyway, I'll go join Donovan outside, it'll be better anyway." The medical examiner stated as he got up and walked away.

"John, what's up? What do you want to talk to me about?" Greg asked.

"Greg, I finally realised my feelings towards Sherlock, I realised that I..that I love.. I mean loved him." The blonde man admitted.

Greg just sat in silence.

Sherlock pounded the pavement, up Baker Street, determined to go to 221B and hug the man he needed so much, the man that taught him, a high functioning sociopath, to care. To show him what love is like and helped him realise his own feelings. To show him that he could care, that caring was good. As he approached his old flat he noticed the police car outside. Sherlock feared that someone had go to the house before him. He began to run, straight through the front door and up the stairs. All Sherlock heard was "Greg, I love... loved him." Sherlock burst through the door and picked up the army doctor and squeezed him into a tight embrace. He felt the doctor stiffen at first and then relax. He finally let go and looked down at the blond man. He saw tear tracks running down his face and knew he had them to. Suddenly wallop! John punched Sherlock, a firm right hook to the detective's lower jaw. Greg just sat in shock, his eyes wide. He managed to turn away as John leaned up to Sherlock and kissed him on the lips tenderly.

"Why? Why did you go? How are you back?" John enquired.

Sherlock knew it was going to be a long night of explaining to John and Greg.

THE END FOR NOW AT LEAST ANYWAY.

A/N might put up another one where he explains but for now I jus wrote this one as it came into my head. TTFN.


End file.
